


Only a Slave

by morgan_cian



Category: Slave Breakers - maculategiraffe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Caning, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting between two married friends, and one cannot let go of the past no matter the hurt it can cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only a Slave

**Author's Note:**

> When this came to mind it just felt like the Slave Breakers verse pre- _Lee_. No canon characters are mentioned, just some I created from my imagination that wanted to play in Mac’s ([](http://maculategiraffe.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://maculategiraffe.livejournal.com/) **maculategiraffe** ) sandbox. Also, this was kind of uncomfortable to write because it is written from the unsympathetic view of the nobility, so yeah the slaves are objectified and treated like property. Also, this is fiction and in no way symbolizes my own views. Just thought I would throw that out there. ;)

Anna could count on one hand all the reasons for the very bad idea that was about to happen. She could call and give her regrets and he would understand. She should call. She never should have made the arrangements in the first place.

Her husband was slow but not stupid. Andrew Grinkov had been a very close friend before her arranged marriage. His wife was visiting family near the border. Her husband was across the sea on business.

And she was standing on Andrew’s doorstep about to make a very big mistake. Her gloved hand trembled as she rang the bell. It was unseemly to visit a married friend without accompaniment of spouse or slave.

One of Andrew’s many slaves opened the door and stepped back with a proper bow. Andrew was a stickler for etiquette. “Mistress,” quiet and demure in the Grinkov signature cream colored tunic.

“Anna,” Andrew’s voice was both jovial and controlled, too controlled. His shoulder length brown hair was swept away from his face, exposing the gray at the temples. The lavender of his cravat was incongruent with the heat in his pale blue gaze.

His lips were full and sensuous, barely brushing over her raised knuckles. “Come, darling Anna-Green, I’ll have tea prepared.”

She blushed at the childhood nickname, the reference in how her younger self had wanted red hair just like Anne of the Green Gables. Age had her accepting her fine blonde hair that was twisted up off her shoulders as well as the green eyes her husband never mentioned.

The same slave took her coat and gloves and she imagined the quick draw of breath as Andrew ushered her to well appointed leather chair. Just as she imagined his dark eyes traveling over the exposed swell of her bosom.

Anna’s carefully imagined fantasy came to a halt as Andrew seated himself on the chaise lounge and allowed his newly acquired to drape herself against his side. Her attention was dragged back to the slave offering tea in a fine boned china cup.

“Drew.” His eyebrows quirked upward; his hand settled on the dark swell of naked hip. Anna licked her lips, “May I have a brandy instead?”

Andrew gave a nod of assent before returning his gaze to Anna’s, “Only if you will allow me to call Bedford to come around and collect you.”

“Yes, of course.” Anna accepted the cut glass tumbler as Andrew lit a cigar. “She’s new?”

The heavy brow knitted in consternation before smoothing once more, “Yes, isn’t she lovely.” His hand drifted from hip to heft the pierced and chained breast. “Quite unique for these parts, don’t you think?”

The fragrant fumes wafted across Anna’s senses before taking a small sip of the brandy. “You always had to have the finest of toys.”

Andrew chuckled and nudged the young girl into standing. Her skull was elegantly shaped and exposed by close cropped hair, her skin a mix of caramel and chocolate. “Did you select the accruements?”

She watched her childhood sweetheart study the slave, his gaze intense and academic, as well as lustful.

“No, it is native to her village.”

Tiny golden beads connected ear lobe to nostril, each pierced with winking jewels. The same design permeated from beaded hoops inserted through protruding nipples, its chain swaying delicately. The jewel at her navel was bright, a drop of blood, that connected more beads draped around slender hips and sloping belly. Anna worried her bottom lip and shifted restlessly as single strand of beads disappeared between the hairless slit at the apex of trembling thighs.

“Even there?”

“Yes,” Andrew’s voice was a bit breathless as he tugged the young slave against his side once more. His fingers were pale against her skin as he tapped her chin. She kept her eyes lowered demurely as the pink tongue slipped out between full dark lips. The bead speared into the wet muscle made Anna blush with more than just the pleasant buzz of alcohol. “Very pleasurable additions, I assure you.”

“Andrew,” Anna had to fight not to moan. Her greatest fear realized within the decadence of his home, she could not ask for what she wanted. But she could have what was accepted. She knew that her husband would bed the pierced beauty as soon as he laid eyes on her. He and Andrew would chuckle lewdly over cigars and whiskey in the aftermath.

“Anything, Anna-Green,” he replied. She watched his fingers worry the golden beads splayed over abdomen and slip lower.

“Is the older one available, the one you refuse to part with?”

Anna knew it was part spite as Andrew’s eyes widened with surprise. She knew the slave’s name, Philip. His family had gifted the boy to Andrew on the night of Anna’s betrothal. He was their age and beginning to show it. She was sure with Andrew’s shallow enjoyment of young beautiful flesh; he would have sold Philip long before now.

But he did not, and Anna could not bring herself to say his name in Andrew’s presence. No matter how many times she requested to fuck him, she resented Philip and all that he stood for in Andrew’s life. Andrew’s surprised puzzlement was irksome. She could not make love to the man she secretly loved from childhood. She could bed the reminder of why she could not.

Philip appeared, his red hair bound back over his wide shoulders, the cream of his tunic complementary to honey skin and smattering of youthful freckles. Youthfulness that could not disguise the lines dug around eyes or lips. It was the same lines that had Anna wanting to bash in mirrors.

“May I inspect him?” Anna asked with careful detachment. Andrew waved a distracted hand before returning to the writhing slave in his arms.

Philip’s expression was carefully neutral as he went to kneel at her feet. Anna stopped him, “Show me your cock.”

Long, slim fingers grasped the edge of the tunic and lifted. Such fragile flesh within the nest of dark red curls, not for the first time did Anna wonder. Did Andrew allow Philip to fuck him after all this time?

Holding out an imperious hand, Philip quickly dropped his tunic and helped Anna to her feet. Ignoring him, she directed her attention back to Andrew, “The same room, on the left at the top of the stairs?”

Andrew detached himself from his slave and stepped up to them. He spoke lowly to Philip, giving his assent, and then he turned to Anna. Once again, his eyes traveled over her exposed skin before leaning forward. Her senses were assaulted with tobacco, brandy, and musk. His breath a physical caress, the whisper caused her to shiver.

“Enjoy yourself, darling Anna-Green.”

How she wanted that barely restrained lust to be directed at her, over her, in her, instead she made her way up the stairs.

Philip well trained, stripped off his tunic and neatly folded it. He placed it on the cherry bureau before kneeling at her feet.

“Your hair,” she reminded. His fingers quickly loosened the leather binding his hair, the red river of curls tumbling about his neck.

Anna set on the edge of the bed and lifted her foot. They had danced this dance so many times. He took away her shoes, his hands sliding up her calves to detach the garters. His fingers were warm and tantalizing on the downward journey to remove the hosiery.

He sat back on his heels, his thighs spread wide to frame his cock that was beginning to show interest, plump and dusky pink. She placed her foot against the firm, trembling muscle. Philip followed her command by lifting it, tiny within wide palms, and massaging. His lips parted.

“You may.” He kissed her arch first before carefully suckling at each toe and laving in between. When she pulled, he put it down carefully and lifted her neglected foot to give it the same treatment.

Anna stood and Philip knelt upward to ease her skirt down her legs and the damp silk of her underwear. Watching him, his head near her groin, Anna did away with the corset, breathing deep and freeing her aching breasts.

Sitting back on the bed, she kept her buttocks near the edge, balancing with her feet and wide spread thighs. Anna could feel his breath on the most intimate part of her body.

“You may,” She husked.

He was well trained and practiced. She wondered inanely if the refined Margaret, Andrew’s wife, made use of his talented mouth. It was maddening, the flicks of tongue, nip of lips, scrape of teeth. Growling, she twined her fingers in his hair and jerked him forward.

“Lower.” Where she needed, her thighs locking as he went deep. Her back bowed off the bed as she ground against his mouth. Then she released him as she collapsed onto the bed once more.

She watched him through hooded eyes, his careful brush of fingers against his lips, his eyes exposed and vulnerable. Anna motioned for Philip to position himself on the bed, ordering that his hands stay at his side.

Holding him, she straddled his hips and sank down. “Don’t look away,” she commanded as she rocked forward on his cock. She felt a sense of triumph at the spark of annoyance, resignation, and then the carefully arranged mask of lustful interest.

So very well trained indeed.

Anna fucked him until she came twice but did not allow his release. His slip of emotion would cost him. She made him wait and serve her as she dressed, loosened corset, skirt and bare legs. Anna grabbed the dressing robe hanging from the door on a hook as she bade him to follow.

Andrew was sprawled against the fine leather. The girl knelt between his thighs, her head resting against him. His trousers open and his shirt loosened at the collar.

“Anna-Green,” he slurred in sated relaxation, “have fun?”

She sat across from him, placing her hands against her knees. “He was…adequate.” She let the pause in her words weigh heavily as Philip knelt at his master’s feet.

“Phil? Really,” Andrew drew out his words lazily, “’S not like him at all.”

Anna lifted a prim shoulder, “A slave should be more than slab of meat to fuck, don’t you think, Drew?”

She watched as Andrew frowned, his face transforming into a dark cloud as he sat forward. His fingers speared into Philip’s long hair and tugged.

“You did not please the lady?”

Philip’s body was tense but his voice low and respectful, “I’m sorry, master.”

Andrew pushed him back. “Would you like satisfaction, my darling Anna-Green?”

She nodded. In a flurry of activity, Andrew moved them into a room adorned with wooden cross, a gleaming silver hook suspended from the ceiling, and assorted instruments hanging from the walls. Philip was stripped bare, his wrists hung from the hook.

“Your choice,” Andrew said darkly. Anna chose the cane and set back against the similar leather wide armed chair. Andrew must approve of audiences, she thought.

Anna watched as Andrew laid judicious stripes with the cane. Philip’s flesh reddened even as buttocks and thighs tensed. She appreciated the symmetry of the slave’s ass matching his hair.

Did Anna feel bad for having Philip punished unduly? No. She couldn’t have Andrew and Philip was only a slave.


End file.
